


Stupid Choices

by TheseusInTheMaze



Series: Bad Decisions [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Crying, F/F, Lap Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Pining, Rimming, Strap-Ons, Teacher/Student, Vaginal Fingering, thigh humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: The Doctor finds Yaz locked out on a rainy day.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: Bad Decisions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826224
Comments: 7
Kudos: 89





	Stupid Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my Problematic Faves <3
> 
> Mind the tags, folks - this is a dark 'un.

Yasmin Khan glared at the doorknob of her flat, and she resisted the urge to rub her face. Of _course_ she would forget her key _today_ , when her mum was working an overnight shift, her dad was off with relatives, and Sonya was spending the night with her mates. 

She didn't have anywhere to go. 

She had been looking forward to a night to herself - the apartment was almost never _completely_ empty, and she'd been planning a night of especially perverse debauchery.

(She was going to order takeaway, watch a dumb horror movie while eating it, and maybe masturbate with her bedroom door open.) 

And now she was stuck. She eyed her phone, tapping her foot, and then she turned around and made her way out. Maybe Mum would be in a better frame of mind if it was after midnight, since she'd have her phone on her at that point. Although she'd still be in a bad mood about it, which Yaz was very much not looking forward to. 

This whole fucking summer had been horrible. After everything with the Doctor... she'd gotten a few more kisses, then got driven straight home. The Doctor had given her two word answers, and then she hadn't seen or heard from the Doctor for... a month. It had been exactly thirty four days since that night in the club (not that Yaz had been counting), and she hadn't heard or seen anything from the Doctor since. 

And now she was locked out, and she didn't have anything to do or anywhere to go until then. Yaz sighed, eyed her phone. She didn't even have her charger on her, since she'd left it at home. She'd only popped off to the shops to get a bar of chocolate (she probably had her period coming soon, if she was this desperate for some chocolate), and now... she was locked out. 

"Fuck," she said, but not too loudly, because she didn't want to be that weirdo who just stood by herself and said bad words. 

Okay. She could do this. She'd go to the library, turn her phone off to conserve battery, then... find a cafe. She had some money, she could loiter with a cup of tea if she needed to. 

Not exactly a fun prospect, but... eh. 

* * *

Three hours later, Yaz sat out on a bench by the library, her legs stretched out in front of her. She still had a few hours until eleven, which left her rather... stuck. She really was lucky that the library was open so late in summer, but... still. It was also pouring down rain, and she didn't have an umbrella. She'd shoved her phone into a safe place, so she wasn't worried about _that_ , but she was still soaking wet and... stuck. 

"Yaz?" 

That voice was familiar. It was a voice she'd thought of a _lot_. Especially late at night, with her hand down the front of her pajamas. She looked up into the face of her teacher, and her heart jumped up into her throat. 

"Doctor?" 

"Hi, Yaz," said the Doctor. She was wearing a raincoat, and was holding shopping bags. "What are you doin', sitting out here at night, in the rain?" She gave Yaz a nervous smile. "Trying to make a music video?"

"Where've you _been_?" Yaz stood up, and she was faintly shocked at the surge of anger that was washing over her. 

"Oh, y'know," said the Doctor, and she leaned back. She looked nervous now, and that was a familiar expression. Yaz remembered it under the fluorescent lights, in the bathroom of the club. "I went on holiday right after term ended. Only just got back."

"Why didn't you reach out to me?" Yaz hated how choked up she was getting. She didn't want to start crying - not in the rain, while talking to... what was the Doctor to her, anyway? Her teacher? Her crush? Her lover? 

"I... that would have been inappropriate," the Doctor said. Maybe it was just the lights of the streetlight, but she looked like she was going pale. A few locks of blond hair were escaping the hood, and were pasted down by the rain. 

"And the rest of -"

"Yaz," the Doctor said sharply, "we are in _public_." She leaned in a little closer, until the rim of the hood of her jacket was almost touching Yaz's forehead. "You should go home, before you get sick."

"I can't go home," Yaz said. "I'm locked out."

"Your parents aren't home?" The Doctor frowned. 

"Mum's on shift with her phone turned off 'til late, Dad's off visiting relatives. _And_ my sister is off staying at a friend's, and my grandmother lives in a home, so I can't just go stay with her." 

"D'you not have any mates you can go stay with?" The Doctor shifted her grocery bags in her hands.

"I told you already," Yaz said, "I don't have any mates."

The Doctor flushed, no doubt remembering that conversation; remembered being pressed close to Yaz, their breath fogging up the windows of her car, her strap on buried inside of Yaz's cunt. "Nobody at all?" 

"Would I be sitting out in the rain if I had anywhere to go?" Yaz snapped. "Why do you care, anyway? You just -"

"Come back to mine," the Doctor said, and then she must have realized what that had sounded like, because she flushed. “You can stay with me,” she tried again, “and your mum can pick you up when she’s done work.”

“Why should I go with you, when you dropped off the face of the Earth after you took my virginity?” Yaz could acknowledge that it was a low blow, but there was some small satisfaction in the way that the Doctor winced at those words. 

The Doctor glanced around wildly, like a character in a cartoon - Yaz practically expected to see little clouds of smoke on either side of her ears as she did it. “I didn’t drop off the face of the Earth,” the Doctor said. “I went to Spain.”

“Why’d you go and do that?” This was a bit of an absurd conversation to be having while standing out in the rain, wasn’t it? Yaz could feel the cold water dripping down the back of her neck, soaking into her bra. She was wearing high tops, and they had soaked through. 

“I needed to… clear my head,” said the Doctor. She cleared her throat. “Get some sun. Haven’t had a proper vacation in years, thought I’d work on my tan.” 

Yaz looked at the Doctor’s bare legs, revealed by the Doctor’s shorts. They were pretty damn white.

They were also very _nice_ legs, and what would it feel like, to run her hands up them? It looked like the Doctor shaved her legs, and they’d be smooth under the palms of Yaz’s hands, or maybe they’d be prickly, if there was some ghostly stubble hidden. Then again, the Doctor was blond, so maybe she _didn’t_ shave, she just had pale body hair. 

“This is tan for me,” the Doctor said weakly, and she sighed. “C’mon. You’ll get sick if you stay out in the wet like this. You can come over, towel off, we can order some takeaway, and your mum can come pick you up.” 

Yaz opened her mouth to refuse… and then closed it. There was the Doctor, standing in front of her, offering… what? Was this just a chance to dry off and warm up, or something else? She let her eyes roam over the Doctor, who was wearing a pair of rain boots and shorts. It was still more skin than was usually on display than she was used to. 

The Doctor had been fully dressed, during their little dalliance. Yaz had been _obsessing_ over it, making herself come, daydreaming about how it could have gone different. How she could have convinced the Doctor to _stay_. Here was her chance to… plead her case. Or possibly to just yell at the Doctor. Either worked, really. 

“Okay,” Yaz said, because even if there wasn’t any big confrontation or conclusion to… everything, at least she wouldn’t be out in the rain. Her fingers were beginning to prune up, and it felt like her teeth were going to start chattering. 

* * *

The Doctor lived in a small flat, five blocks away. By the time they got to the building, Yaz’s trainers were squelching, and she was so cold she was shivering. Her nipples were hard through her shirt, and once they walked into the warm foyer, she caught the Doctor’s eyes darting down to them, then back to her face. 

“You should have a shower,” the Doctor said, her tone forcefully cheerful. “Have a shower, eat some warm takeaway, we can watch a movie.” The Doctor’s cheer seemed false. It reminded her of the same “aren’t we all excited to do a group project” that the whole class dreaded. 

“You sure you d-d-don’t wanna just g-g-get me naked?” Yaz was trying to sound alluring. Or maybe accusing. She wasn’t sure how she was feeling just yet. 

The Doctor looked around wildly, jamming her finger against the elevator call button. “Don’t say things like that in public,” she hissed.

“There isn’t anyone else around to hear,” Yaz said. The elevator _ding_ ed, and the both of them jumped. 

The elevator was cramped, and the two of them were close enough together that the rain dripping off of the Doctor’s raincoat was dripping onto Yaz’s shoes. None of it was soaking into Yaz’s clothes, since they were already soaked through. 

“Didn’t think it would rain this much,” the Doctor said. “I was just nippin’ out for a quick stop to the shops, I needed to pick some stuff up for… shoot.” She paused. “I’m gonna have to make a call,” she told Yaz. 

“Right,” said Yaz, and she cleared her throat. “This time of year, lots of rain.”

The Doctor nodded, and they rode up in an awkward silence.

 _I was imagining that the next time I saw her, we’d be passionately making out, or maybe I’d tell her about how angry I was and she’d grovel and then we’d passionately make out_ , Yaz thought. _Not talk about the weather_.

Impulsively, Yaz reached for the Doctor’s arm, but the Doctor pulled it back. “There’s a camera in the corner over there,” she said, nodding towards it. 

Yaz rolled her eyes. “You’re right paranoid, y’know that, right?” She shoved her hands into her pockets, and then made a face, and pulled her hands out again. It was too damp to do it comfortably. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, “I am your _teacher_. I could get in a lot of trouble just having you in my building, let alone…” She trailed off.

“Let alone,” Yaz repeated, and she met the Doctor’s eyes, one eyebrow up.

The Doctor flushed, looked down at her feet. They both jumped when the elevator door _ding_ ed, and then they were shuffling out. 

“Right,” said the Doctor, as they made their way down the hallway. “You can have a warm shower -”

“Will you be joining me?” Yaz asked, and her tone was one of friendly inquiry. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor hissed. “None of that.”

Yaz rubbed her hands together, rocking on her heels as they stopped in front of a door. She watched the Doctor unlock the door, and then she was being ushered into the small flat. the Doctor flipped a lightswitch, and the light from the lamp by the squashy purple couch was syrupy and golden, like honey filling up the room. 

“So. You’ll get a shower, I’ll put your stuff in the dryer - it’s all dryer safe, right? We can hang it to dry on the shower rail otherwise.” The Doctor kicked her shoes off, then hung up her wet jacket on the coat rack. 

Yaz leaned back against the door, trying to untie her shoes. They were wet enough, and her fingers were cold enough, that it was a struggle. “Let me help with that, Yaz.”

The Doctor had put her bags on the kitchen counter nearby, and then she was crouching down in front of Yaz. “Here we go, let me help.”

Yaz put her feet down, and she licked her lips. She looked down at the Doctor, and the Doctor looked at her. Their eyes met, and there was… a moment. Then the Doctor cleared her throat, and she was looking back down at Yaz’s shoes. “Let’s get this done,” the Doctor said. “Let’s… get that done.” 

_The last time she was like this, she ate me out_ , Yaz thought, and she felt a whole body clench, her toes curling in her shoes.

“Foot up, please,” the Doctor said, and her voice was surprisingly loud in the small room. 

Yaz lifted her foot up, and she let the Doctor pull her trainer off. Then the Doctor was slipping off her wet sock, and setting it down inside the other shoe. She gave Yaz’s (cold, wet) foot a pat, and then she was fiddling with the laces of Yaz’s other shoe. Then came Yaz’s shoe, and Yaz had her hands on top of the Doctor’s head, to keep her balance. 

The Doctor didn’t say anything, as she reached up, and then she was pushing the hem of Yaz’s shirt up. Her fingers were on the buttons of Yaz’s jeans. The button being opened was silent. The sound of the zip going down was less so, and that made Yaz jump. The way she jumped seemed to puil the Doctor out of whatever trance she’d been in, and she jerked back, sitting back on her heels.

“Well,” the Doctor said, and her voice was artificially bright, “you can finish getting everything else off. Leave it in a pile by the door, I’ll pop it into the dryer for ya.”

“Thanks,” said Yaz, and she licked her lips. Her nipples were hard, and she was getting wet. The Doctor would be able to tell, as close as they were. “Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Down the hall,” said the Doctor. She was still sitting back on her heels. 

“Let me just... “ Yaz grabbed the hem of her shirt, and she pulled it up and off, dropping it onto the floor with a wet _smack_. Her bra was wet enough that it was see through, and with her nipples as hard as they were, well… 

“Yaz,” the Doctor squeaked, “you can, uh, you can finish changing in the bathroom.” She stood up quickly, and was staring fixedly at the bags. 

_I should try to seduce her_ , thought Yaz dazedly. _I should make her get on her knees and beg me, or i’ll tell everyone. Or maybe I’ll get on my own knees and beg her myself._ What did she want? 

Yaz could see the Doctor’s shoulders tensing up under her shirt, as she stared at the grocery bags. 

“You said to leave them by the door,” Yaz said. “So I’m gonna.” She unclipped her bra, and she let it join her bra. Then she was just… hooking her fingers under the waistband of her knickers, and then she was naked. 

“Meant the bathroom door,” the Doctor said thickly. 

“Thanks,” Yaz, and she made her way to the bathroom. She opened the door, and she turned the light on. She fancied she heard the Doctor give a little gasp, before she closed it again. Then she leaned against the door, and she pressed the palm of her hand against her chest, over her rapidly beating heart. 

_I can’t believe I did that_ , Yaz thought. _Why did I do that?_ She rubbed her face, and her hands were shaking. _Is this the kind of person I am now?_

The shower was easy enough to figure out, at least. She turned the water on, stepped in, and then she sighed, as the cold that had been sinking into her bones finally began to disperse, chased off by the warmth of the hot water. The shower drummed on her head, and it reminded her of rain on a tin roof. The pressure was comforting, and the steam that was already beginning to fill the small bathroom up seemed to envelop her like a hug. 

_I don’t know who I am anymore,_ Yaz thought, and she grabbed for the bottle of soap and a washcloth. The scent of peppermint was very strong, and it practically tingled against Yaz’s skin as she began to rub it in, suds beginning to form up. _I thought losing my virginity would make me different. Is this it?_

The only answer was the drumming of the water on her head. 

* * * 

Yaz didn't necessarily _mean_ to start masturbating. It was just that her skin was tingling from the soap and from the warmth, and when she ran the cloth over her breasts, her nipples stood at attention, and she then, well… one thing led to another. 

Yaz was rubbing her clit, covering her mouth with one hand to keep from making any embarrassing noises. She was leaning back against the tile, and the contrast of cold tile and hot water was making her nerves _sing_.

And then the door opened.

“Yaz,” said the Doctor, “realized I sent you in here without a towel.”

Yaz made a surprised noise, and nearly slipped. She grabbed the shower curtain, which was printed with constellations, and then she righted herself. “Thanks,” she said. 

“Left you some clothes, too,” said the Doctor. “What d’you want for takeaway?”

“I’m good with anythin’,” Yaz said, “as long as it doesn’t have any pork in it, or celery.”

“D’you like Chinese?” The door was mostly closed, and the Doctor seemed to be talking around the crack in it.

“Sounds good,” said Yaz. _What if I asked her to make me come, the way she did before?_ That sent another shock of arousal through Yaz, and she shivered. 

"Excellent," said the Doctor, and then the door closed all the way, and Yaz was left alone in the steam. 

Of course, after that it was a bit too hard to masturbate. It was a little too... something. Or maybe she was just too anxious. 

* * *

Yaz came out of the shower in a pair of pajama pants printed with little moose, and a big t-shirt with a picture of a cow. 

The Doctor was leaning against her kitchen counter, scratching the back of her calf with one foot. She was wearing a pair of black yoga pants and thick, heavy socks, with a floppy off white sweater that had been knitted with a series of question marks. She was staring at her electric kettle, which was steaming. She looked over at Yaz, her damp hair in short waves around her face, and her expression opened like a flower. “You look comfy,” she said, and she cleared her throat. “Didn’t think my stuff would fit you so well.”

Yaz looked down. The cuffs of the pajamas swished around her ankles, and the floppy hem of the shirt trailed down to her thighs. “We’re almost the same size,” she pointed out. 

The Doctor nodded. She was looking Yaz up and down with an expression that could almost be described as _hungry_ , and then it was replaced by a naked fear that went so deep it made Yaz’s own anxiety spike. Then she gave a nervous laugh. “Since, y’know, you’re my student, I tend to think of you as being that much smaller ‘n me. Even though some of you lot are taller than me.”

“I’d think that you’d remember my size,” said Yaz, and she took a step closer, “considering you’ve had your hands all over -”

The kettle finished heating up, and the _pop_ made the both of them jump. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice was shaking, “you shouldn’t talk like that.”

“D’you not like being reminded of what we did?” Yaz took a step closer. Why was she pushing this? It had all been _fine_ , why did she have to ruin this? 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” the Doctor said, and her voice was flat. She was blushing up to her ears, an ugly, dark red. “It was a stupid choice.”

“You really think I was a stupid choice?” Yaz hated the way her voice broke, and her throat was getting tight. How was she so upset about this? 

God, she was ruining _everything_ l.

“You are _never_ a stupid choice, Yaz,” the Doctor said sharply. “You…” She trailed off, cleared her throat. “I took advantage of you,” she said, and now her voice was going flat. “In ways I shouldn’t have, I betrayed -”

“You didn’t,” Yaz interrupted. 

“I betrayed your trust, as your teacher and as an adult who was - is - responsible for you,” the Doctor said, speaking over Yaz. 

“That’s rubbish,” Yaz said, and now her lower lip was wobbling. “I think… I think you’re just guilty because you liked it. You liked it, and you want to do it again, but you won’t admit it!” Her face was wet. “It was… it was one of the best nights of my life, and you’re saying it was one of your stupid ch-ch-choices!” The last words were coming out in a hitching sob, and she wrapped her arms around herself, clutching her own midsection. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice was so soft and sad that it twisted Yaz’s guts up like a taffy machine. Yaz stared down at her bare feet, her skin dark against the white tile of the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” Yaz whispered, and she wasn’t sure what she was sorry for. 

There was what sounded like a sigh, and then the Doctor’s arms were wrapped around her, and the Doctor’s chin was on her shoulder, holding her tight. “It’s okay,” the Doctor said, and her tone was sweet, and very sad. “It’s okay. I know.”

Yaz let go of herself, and she clutched at the Doctor’s shirt, sobbing into the collar of it. It was proper crying, too, bawling like an infant, her shoulders shaking and her nose running. The Doctor was rubbing her back and making soothing noises, rocking her gently in place. 

“I know,” the Doctor said, and she sounded so old, so tired. “I know.”

Yaz pulled back after an eon had passed, sniffling wetly, and she wiped her face on the back of her hand. She looked up at the Doctor, and she didn’t want to think about how red her eyes were. “Why’d you leave?” She asked, her tone plaintive.

“I can’t… _we_ can’t -” the Doctor began, and then they both jumped, as the buzzer over the door squawked at them.

“I’ll get the takeaway,” said the Doctor, and Yaz sniffed, wiped her face again. 

“I’ll, uh, I’m just going to the toilet,” Yaz said awkwardly, and she went to go splash some cold water on her face. 

* * *

When she came back, she found the Doctor arranging takeaway containers on her coffee table, which was an old camping trunk. She’d turned the television on as well, and was nibbling on her lower lip as she scrolled through the offerings, as if she was making some grave, life changing choice.

“What kinda movies d’you like?” The Doctor passed the remote over to Yaz, and began to spoon rice and chicken onto a plate. 

“I like horror,” said Yaz. “Since I had the flat to myself tonight, was gonna have some takeaway and watch a horror movie.”

“You can still do that,” the Doctor said cheerfully, and she stretched out. “Love a good horror flick, me.” She was acting so… normal, so cheerful. Almost as if she was trying to convince some unseen observer that she was fine, everything was _fine_.

“What kinda horror do you like?” Yaz asked. The Doctor placed a plate covered in steaming hot food into her lap, and Yaz took a deep breath, her mouth watering. 

“Not too picky, long as it ain’t too gory,” said the Doctor. “Not much of a _Saw_ fan.”

Yaz put a movie on, leaned back into the couch, and began to eat. This was all taking on the air of a dream, and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Her head ached from crying, and she was eating mechanically. 

“You can charge your phone after you finish eating,” the Doctor said, and her tone was very earnest, over the screams on the screen. “If you’re really tired, you can have a nap on the sofa.”

“Thanks,” said Yaz. “I, uh, I appreciate it.”

“‘Course,” the Doctor said, and she shot Yaz a smile that made Yaz’s stomach twist up, arousal flaring deep and desperate in her gut. 

The movie played on, and Yaz ended up dozing, leaning back into the warm, soft comfort of the couch. She was woken up once, as the Doctor had cleared away the plates, and then she’d woken up again, much later, her head groggy and full of fog.

The movie wasn’t playing anymore, and her head was cushioned on the Doctor’s thigh. There was a blanket over her shoulder, and the lights were dim. 

“Mmm?” She blinked up at the Doctor, rubbing her eyes with one hand. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep,” the Doctor said. She was talking very quietly. “Ended up falling over, didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“You broke my heart,” Yaz said, full of the sleepy honesty that came from the quietness late at night. “Why’d you do that?” 

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her fingers were very gentle, as they stroked across Yaz’s forehead, pushing the hair off. She didn’t seem to realize she was doing it. “Yaz, I”m your teacher. You’re _sixteen_. I could get in so much trouble. You… can’t want this. You’re too young to know what you want.” 

“I know what I want,” Yaz said. She sat up, nearly getting the Doctor in the chin. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she said, and her voice was starting to catch again. When had she gotten this _weepy_?

“Oh, Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice was so tender, and so sad. “I do. I was your age once, and I -”

“No, you don’t,” Yaz said, and her voice cracked. “You… I thought you liked me. I gave you something… something so important, and then you just disappeared. Like you didn’t care at all.”

“Oh, Yaz, I do care. Of course I care!” The Doctor looked hurt, and Yaz took some kind of savage satisfaction from it. She was having an impact. “I’m your _teacher_ , Yaz. I care about you so much.”

“I don’t have anyone else,” Yaz said. She sniffed, and she wiped her face on the back of her hand. “I don’t… it’s just me. By myself.”

“You have your family, Yaz,” the Doctor said, her tone coaxing. She had her hands on Yaz’s arms, and she was rubbing little circles with her thumbs, electric against Yaz’s skin. 

“That’s not what i mean,” Yaz said, her tone accusing, “and you know it.” 

“I know,” the DOctor said, and she sounded genuinely sad. Her hazel eyes were very shiny, even in the dim light cast from the television. She looked like she might start crying herself, and Yaz flat out could _not_ deal with that. 

“Why… why did you do it? If you’re so against it in the first place?” Yaz’s hands were on the Doctor’s knees now, squeezing. 

“It was… it was a stupid choice,” said the Doctor. “I hurt you in ways that I can’t ever make up for, and... I’m being selfish even now. I shouldn’t…” She trailed off. “Yaz,” she said, and she still sounded so sad, so _terrified_.” “Yaz, I can’t want this.” 

“But you do,” Yaz said. “She was pressing closer to the Doctor, close enough that she could have counted her teacher’s eyelashes. 

The Doctor didn’t say anything, but her eyes kept flicking down to Yaz’s lips, then up to Yaz’s eyes. She looked scared and lost, an expression that belonged on someone much younger. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Yaz whispered, and then she was leaning forward. She pressed her mouth against the Doctor’s in an awkward kiss. 

The Doctor froze, trembling. She was clutching Yaz tightly, hard enough that her knuckles were probably starting to ache. When Yaz pulled back, the Doctor was still sitting there, still as a statue as if she was in shock. 

“Yaz,” the Doctor said, and her voice was trembling, “we _can’t_ do that.” She pressed her forehead against Yaz’s, and her hot breath gusted over Yaz’s face. “I could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Nobody has to find out,” Yaz said, and she wriggled closer, until they were knee to knee, pressing the Doctor’s face with little kisses. 

The Doctor didn’t stop her, although she was still trembling, her whole body ramrod straight. “This is a bad idea,” she said, but she seemed to be talking to herself more than to Yaz. “Of all the horrible choices…” And then she took Yaz’s face in her hands, and she kissed Yaz flat on the mouth. She surged forward, her chest against Yaz’s, and her breasts were soft, her mouth wet and hot. 

Yaz kissed her back desperately, frantically, all tongue and spit. It was awkward and weird, and it was so _warm_. Somehow, she was flat on her back, head supported by the arm of the couch, and she was looking up at the Doctor, who was looming over her. It was a little bit scary; she was suddenly acutely self conscious of how inexperienced she was, how young. She looked up into the Doctor’s face, and the light seemed to catch the little lines around her eyes. 

“Is this what you want, Yaz?” The Doctor’s hands were on Yaz’s wrists now, pulling them up, pinning them. Yaz stared up at her with wide eyes, and she turned her face up to be kissed again. 

“Please,” Yaz whispered. She let the Doctor manipulate her, one foot on the floor, her other leg curled around the Doctor’s waist. The inside of her knee was pressed against the Doctor’s hip, and the Doctor’s thigh was planted between her thighs, forcing the seam of the pajamas right up against her clit. 

Yaz gasped, and her hips jerked forward. She whimpered, straining against the hands on her wrists, but the Doctor held her tight. 

“This is what you wanted,” the Doctor said, and she was kissing along Yaz’s jaw, her tongue tracing over Yaz’s earlobe. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” There was something manic in her voice, something that might have been rage. 

"Yes," Yaz gasped. "Yes, please, don't _stop_!"

It hadn't been exactly like this in all her fantasies, admittedly. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it felt like there was wetness against her face, as if her teacher was crying.

The Doctor kissed her again, harder this time, nipping at her lips, and the thigh between her legs was grinding down hard enough that it was almost painful. Yaz was clutching at the Doctor's sweater, and then she was being kissed again, the Doctor licking into her mouth.

It was all so... frenzied. So wet. There was some kind of aching, painful desperation in it that made bits of Yaz want to hide under the bed, or run from the flat like she was being tailed by the hounds of God. But some other part of her felt grown up, to be trusted by someone so adult. To be _doing_ something so adult. 

At some point, the Doctor's hand had made its way over the soft puppy fat of her belly, and was cradling one breast, thumbing the nipple, then pinching it. The pressure against her clit was getting stronger, and then the Doctor's mouth was on her earlobe, sucking on it hard enough that it seemed to be pulling Yaz in two, the two different sensations fighting each other, then letting her go, to leave her limp and panting as the little shock of the orgasm twitched and twisted through her like a wire going off. 

The Doctor kissed Yaz on the temple, and the kiss was loud enough that it made Yaz's ear ring. "Did you come?" She sounded nervous as she asked it, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"Yeah," Yaz said, breathless. "It was... it was good."

"I'm glad," said the Doctor, and then she was kissing Yaz again. It was as if she'd been holding back before, and now she was putting her all into... whatever it was she was doing. So why was there that tinge of sadness? 

Yaz kissed her back, her hands in the Doctor's hair, then moving to feel the Doctor's breasts - they were soft, the nipples hard against her palms.

The Doctor pulled away, sitting back on her heels and looking down at Yaz. Her eyes were red, her cheeks red. "I'm fucked," she said, in a matter of fact tone. "I'm totally fucked." 

Yaz blinked up at her, still trembling. It hadn't been much of an orgasm, as those sorts of things went, but it had still undeniably happened. 

"I'm never going to be okay," the Doctor whispered, but she seemed to be talking to herself. She bent down, and she kissed Yaz again, harder this time, with her tongue and her lips and her teeth. Then she pulled back, getting off the couch. "C'mon."

"Where are we going?" Yaz let herself be pulled. 

"Into my bedroom," said the Doctor. She pushed open the door, and then she was... dropping onto the floor. "If I'm so fucked," she said, in a matter of fact sort of way, "I might as well enjoy myself along the way." 

Yaz watched the Doctor's backside wriggle, as she pulled what looked like another trunk out from under the bed. "What's in there?" She sat on the bed, which was huge and soft, sinking under her like a cloud of mashed potatoes. 

"A lot of stuff," said the Doctor, and then she was pulling out... a dildo. It was _rainbow_ , and Yaz hadn't even known they could come in that color scheme. 

"Are you gonna use this on me?" Yaz licked her lips. It was bigger than the other one that she'd been fucked with - at least, as she'd remembered that one. It was wider, too - she couldn't fully close her fingers around it. 

"No," said the Doctor, and she was still digging around. Then she pulled out something black, with buckles. " _You_ are gonna use it on _me_." Her face was very pink, and she was panting like she'd been running.

"Oh," said Yaz, and she tried to hide her own nerves. _I've never done anything like that. What if I get it wrong? Although how wrong could I get it?_

"If you want to," the Doctor said quickly, and some of the manic energy had left her, replaced by panic. "If you're feeling overwhelmed, or if you don't want to -"

"I do," Yaz interrupted. "I do. I'm just... I've never done this before."

The Doctor gave her a sad smile. "I figured as much," she said, and her tone was a mix of sadness and arousal. 

* * *

Yaz sat on the Doctor's bed, her back propped up by the headboard, a pillow stuffed against her lower back for support. She had her legs straight in front of her, and the strap on was pointing up towards her chin. It felt a tad ridiculous, like she was wearing a costume that didn't fit, but the Doctor was looking at her with wild eyes from the end of the bed. 

"Tell me what you want, Yaz," the Doctor said, and she crawled closer, like some kind of predatory animal.

"Your... your sweater," Yaz said, her voice thick. "Take it off. Please."

"So polite," the Doctor said, and she sat back on her heels, grabbing the hem of her sweater. She tossed it off to the side, and Yaz's eyes were drawn to her breasts, practically glowing white in the golden light from the bedside table. Her nipples were small and pink and hard, and Yaz's mouth was watering looking at them.

"You're so perfect," Yaz said, and it sounded juvenile, embarrassing. She bit her lip, but the Doctor was still staring at her, all wide eyed desperation.

"I'm not," the Doctor said, and she sighed, crawling closer. Her breasts jiggled, and Yaz squirmed, the head of the dildo brushing against her stomach through the t-shirt. "You look good enough to eat." She didn't even seem embarrassed by how cliche she sounded.

Yaz whimpered, and she shuddered, her mouth falling open. “Please,” she whispered, as the Doctor pressed closer, her hands on Yaz’s ankles. “ _Please_.”

“Please what, sweet girl?” One long finger was stroking up Yaz’s thigh, and Yaz thought she might _die_.

“I want your mouth,” Yaz said, and how could that be coming out of her mouth? Those actual words were coming out of her, without seeming to consult her brain. 

The Doctor chuckled, and she seemed to be making a big show of licking her lips. “Where d’you want it?” 

“ _Anywhere_ ,” Yaz said fervently. “Please. I… I remember.” 

“Not too specific,” said the Doctor, and her tone was almost _teasing_. She seemed utterly lost in the moment, although that specter of guilt seemed to be clinging to her heels. 

“I don’t have anything specific in mind,” Yaz said, faintly defensive. 

The Doctor didn’t answer - she leaned forward, and then she was _taking the head of the dildo into her mouth_ , sucking on it, bobbing her head to get more of it into her mouth. Yaz’s own mouth was very dry as she watched the Doctor’s head descend into her lap, then pull back up. 

The Doctor moaned around the thing in her mouth, and Yaz fancied she could almost feel it vibrating against her. She wished it was a real cock made of flesh, wished she could press it into her teacher’s mouth, down her throat. She gasped, clutching at the duvet, and she stared down at the Doctor, wild eyed. 

The Doctor pulled up, licking her lips. They were swollen and wet, and the Doctor very deliberately licked them. “Was that what you meant?” The Doctor asked, and her voice was husky. 

“N-n-no,” Yaz stuttered out, “but I’m not complaining.”

“You’re not the complaining type, are you?” The Doctor’s tone was thoughtful now. 

“No,” Yaz said. “No, I like to think I’m pretty easy to please.” She flushed at the double meaning, but the Doctor didn’t seem to take it as a dirty joke. 

“That’s good,” said the Doctor, sitting up. “Finding the… the simple pleasures.” Yaz couldn’t see what it was the Doctor was doing - her teacher was straddling her lap now, and doing something with the dildo, since Yaz could feel the base being moved. She could just make out the dark blond hair covering the Doctor’s cunt, and then the base of the dildo was being pushed into her vulva, grinding against her clit. 

Yaz made a surprised noise, her eyes darting from the Doctor’s breasts to her red, blushing face. _I remember what it felt like, to slide down onto a toy like that_ , she thought, and her head was spinning, her cunt clenching around the memory of the Doctor’s blue strap on. 

“Oh, fuck,” the Doctor said, and then she was fully seated on the toy, her hands on Yaz’s shoulders, her breasts in Yaz’s face. “ _God_.”

“Does it feel good?” Yaz asked, and she loathed how timid she sounded. Her hands had gone to the Doctor’s sweaty sides, then down, to grip her bum. 

“Yeah,” the Doctor said, her voice thick. “Your cock feels so good, fills me up so good, Yaz.”

_It’s your cock_ , Yaz didn’t say, but she nuzzled into the Doctor’s shoulder, then kissed lower, as the Doctor’s back arched, pressing her breasts into Yaz’s face. “God,” Ya whispered, and she gave the side of one of them a timid little kiss. 

“Suck ‘em,” the Doctor said, and she rocked her hips forward, which made her breasts jiggle. “Hard. I… like that, just like that. Mmm…”

Yaz leaned forward, burying her face in between her teacher’s breasts. She sucked on the side of one, hard enough to leave a hickey. She pulled off with a _pop_ , and then her mouth found the hard nub of the Doctor’s nipple. She sucekd on it, swirling her tongue over it like she was sucking on a lollipop, and she kneaded the other breast with her hand. _Was this what it felt like for her, when I was riding her?_ Yaz thought, and she moaned around the nipple in her mouth. 

“Good girl,” the Doctor crooned, and she was bouncing. “Such a good girl Yaz, you… _fuck_ , that’s… oh fuck…” Her voice was going up in pitch, and her hand was moving between the two of them, her arm moving unsteadily. 

_She’s rubbing her clit_ , Yaz thought, and she whimpered around the nipple in her mouth, then let go of it, to switch sides. _She’s rubbing her clit and riding a dildo I’m wearing, and if I had a real dick I’d be able to feel how warm and hot she is, I bet she’s silky. Next time, I’m gonna use my fingers._

She was very resolutely not paying attention to the fact that she was already planning for a “next time,” as her own hand moved down, squished between their bellies, feeling the lips of the Doctor’s cunt spread over the dildo, then the hard nub of her clit. She rubbed it awkwardly, and the Doctor breathed across the top of her head, fingernails digging into Yaz’s shoulders. 

“God, yes, a little harder, up a bit, just… like… _fuck_ , Yaz, good girl!” The Doctor was panting, her hips twitching minutely. “There, there, just like that, just… like… _oh_!” Her whole body went stiff, and she shuddered, tense as a live wire. Yaz kept rubbing furiously, her fingers pruning up with the Doctor’s arousal, and then she _squealed_ , as the Doctor’s teeth sank into her shoulder.

The Doctor rode out her orgasm, and then seemed to be hit with another one, as she panted and sobbed into Yaz’s neck, Yaz’s ear, Yaz’s temple. Her hard little nipples pressed against Yaz’s own chest, and her heart was beating so fast it almost felt like there were two of them, right against Yaz’s own. Then the Doctor batted Yaz’s hands away, and sagged forward, panting harshly.

“Fuck,” the Doctor said, and her voice broke. “I haven’t… you made me come.” She sounded close to tears. “Oh, Yaz, what have I _done_?” 

“I thought you’ve been done,” Yaz said, which was a horrible joke that she probably should have been ashamed of. 

“I cannot believe you just said that,” the Doctor said. “That sounds like a joke I would make.” 

“That’s where I get it from,” Yaz teased, and it felt odd to make jokes at a time like this, when the air smelled like sex, and was full of some kind of anxious energy that Yaz couldn’t understand. 

“When you say it like that, you make me sound like I’m your mum,” the Doctor grumbled. She ran her fingers through Yaz’s hair, which was still damp with sweat. 

_I need to call my mum_ , Yaz thought. “You’re old enough to be my mum,” she said, which was exactly the wrong thing to say. The Doctor froze against her. “That’s not a bad thing either,” she added quickly. “It’s definitely hot. I like it. Always had a thing for MILFs.”

“You watch too much porn,” said the Doctor, and she kissed Yaz on the mouth, her tongue swiping across Yaz’s lips. She nipped at Yaz’s lip, and Yaz sighed into the kiss. The Doctor pulled herself up and off, and Yaz wrapped her fingers around the wet toy. It was still warm from being inside the Doctor’s body, and then she licked the slickness off of her fingers. It was a sour, musky taste, and the salt lingered on her tongue. 

Yaz let herself be guided - lifted her hips up to have the harness taken off, then pillows shoved under her belly. She ended up face down, arse in the air, and she’d have been embarrassed if she was thinking a little more clearly. The Doctor’s breath was ticklish against her inner thighs, cooling the slickness of her arousal. 

“You’re so beautiful, Yaz,” the Doctor crooned. “So beautiful, I can’t… get over it. Haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since I first saw you.” She pressed a kiss to Yaz’s backside, right on the cheek, then nipped it, and let go. She spread the cheeks of Yaz’s arse, and forced Yaz’s knees to spread open a little further. 

_That’s not what I expected_ , Yaz thought dazedly, and she wasn’t sure if it was the Doctor’s tongue pressing into her arse, or what the Doctor was saying.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you,” the Doctor breathed, and her voice was _needy_ , full of longing. She spread her mouth open, and then she was licking along Yaz’s _arse_ , and that was… weird, but fuck it felt good. 

Yaz made an embarrassing noise, and her hips rocked back. Her arms were getting weak, and then she was flopping forward, her face in the duvet all over again. The Doctor was pressing closer to her, tongue buried in her arse, and when had her fingers ended up in Yaz’s cunt? There was a tongue inside of her, there was a finger inside of her, and she couldn’t keep track of what was where, except that it seemed to be building and building inside of her. 

The Doctor hummed, and her tongue was flickering, fucking Yaz’s arse, her fingers curling and straightening, fucking Yaz’s cunt. She’d never done this before, never done _anything_ with her arse, and somehow the fact that it was her _teacher_ doing it made it moreso.

“Good girl,” the Doctor crooned. “Good girl, sweet girl.” She kissed Yaz’s lower back, and then she was licking again, her tongue swirling over the rim of Yaz’s arsehole, then slipping back in. One finger was awkwardly rubbing Yaz’s clit, and how was she able to do it, which finger was it?

Yaz whimpered, clenching around the fingers inside of her. The Doctor’s tongue swirled, and her breath was hot and steamy. Yaz was teetering on the very edge of her orgasm, being pushed ever closer by the Doctor’s tongue, the Doctor’s fingers. She closed her eyes tightly, and she humped, her toes curling against the Doctor’s own… something? Her legs? It was all warm skin, wet tongue, hot fingers. She could see the image in her mind, the contrast of her skin against the light blue duvet, the paleness of the Doctor’s skin. The spread of her own hair like a splash of ink, the Doctor’s like captured light against her own skin. 

Yaz came like a firecracker, a series of shocking bursts of pleasure popping across her nerves. She sobbed and whimpered, completely limp on the bed, her chest heaving. She whimpered as the Doctor’s fingers withdrew, and she kissed the base of Yaz’s spine, as Yaz kept twitching in the aftershocks. 

“You did such a good job,” the Doctor said, and she nipped one cheek, then crawled up, to lie down next to Yaz, so that they were more or less face to face. “How did that feel, Yaz?”

“It… was good,” Yaz said. “It was amazing. I never knew I could feel that good.” In the golden, honeyed light of the bedside lamp, the Doctor was smiling at her sadly. 

“Next time, we can try a toy back there, if you’d like,” the Doctor said. 

_She said next time_ , Yaz thought, and her heart soared with joy. “I still need to call my mum,” she said, finally remembering. “I’ll tell her I’m staying with a mate.”

“Will she believe you?” The Doctor’s eyes were very wide. She looked nervous. “You said you don’t have mates. Would your parents remember that?”

“Mum’ll be glad that I’ve got someone to spend the night with,” said Yaz, and she stretched, her toe pointing and her back cracking. “Don’t worry,” she said, and she patted the Doctor on the hand. “It’ll be great.”

“This’ll be one of the most stupid choices I’ve ever made,” the Doctor said, her tone resigned. She was still holding on to Yaz’s hand, though, and Yaz took that as a win.


End file.
